FWNN
by KatyMM
Summary: Dean gets a strange text message and storms off to investigate without Sam. A mistake it turns out, as both Winchesters end up hurt. And there is angst... and some snow and a demon and stuff. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

A/N 1 - This is set in the second half of season 2 and slightly AU regarding Sam's visions. It's basically finished and has 11 chapters which I hope to post every other day (I have to mess about just a little more with each before I post of course!).

A/N 2 - Huge thanks to my Beta CDNGirl for all her help and support on this.

A/N 3 - If anyone is wondering about the last chapter of Chance Encounter, it is coming! There will be a delay on it though.

Dean felt something like a shove from behind, followed swiftly by the realisation that he had been stabbed through his left side. He turned around just in time to see someone, or _something,_ disappearing through the open barn door. It was only then that he felt the pain and a sensation of heat spreading as blood seeped down the back of his leg, soaking through his jeans and making the denim gleam in the early morning light. A wave of nausea overtook him and he fell to his knees, clutching his side as the jolt sent pain shooting through him. Fighting the urge to vomit and taking rapid, shallow breaths, he dragged himself up onto a straw bale. He was close to blacking out.

With his head swimming he looked around the barn – he needed something to pack against the wound. There was precious little there but he finally spotted a sack of some sort. Foolishly he went to stand up but staggered back as blackness threatened to engulf him. The sack was only a few feet away, but right now, that looking like quite a distance. He tried to steady his breathing and finally the black mist lifted. On the second attempt, he slowly lowered himself to the dusty, straw littered floor and crawled, painfully, over to the sack. Even that much effort exhausted him and he had to sit and wait for a few minutes before he could carry on. He made as good a field dressing as he could, wadding the none-too-clean material against the wound and securing it with his belt - though tightening it had again nearly caused him to pass out.

Sitting on the floor with his back against a wooden support, he felt a strong urge to close his eyes. He fumbled around in his pocket and found his cell phone but his brain was refusing to function properly. He knew he should be doing something, but he couldn't quite keep hold of the thought long enough to work out what it was. The cell phone slipped from his hand and his eyes closed as he slid sideways to the floor.

Sam paced around the small, dingy motel room, flicking aside the curtain at the window for the umpteenth time and desperately hoping to see the Impala pulling up outside. Still nothing. He hadn't heard from Dean for over 8 hours and he should have called in long before now. He had tried calling his brother's cell phone a dozen times – it just rang and rang and then went to voicemail.

"For Christ's sake Dean, where the hell are you?" he muttered, not for the first time that afternoon.

He knew he was going to have a vision for a split second before it hit. Pain lanced through his skull and he staggered to the nearest bed. Sweating, shaking and holding his head in both hands, he saw Dean! He was lying, motionless, on the floor, unconscious or dead – it was impossible to tell. And just as quickly as it arrived, the vision was gone. Sam was left pale, and damp with sweat. He only just made it to the bathroom before he vomited. Swilling water around his mouth to get rid of the foul taste of bile, he tried to figure out where his brother was. The fleeting images didn't give much away. Clearly a barn judging by the few casually strewn straw bales he had glimpsed. But where the hell was it? He frowned in concentration, trying to retrieve anything from the vision that might, somehow, help.

Getting nowhere, Sam went back over the previous few hours. The mysterious text on Dean's cell – giving co-ordinates. The argument they had had over Dean going alone to the location and then Dean storming off, slamming the door behind him. Sam still couldn't understand why Dean hadn't wanted him along, but he had said he would call in a couple of hours when he got there… only where was "there"?

Dean opened his eyes. At first he had trouble focussing but eventually he made out a white ceiling. Which was odd. His fuzzy brain was trying to work out what was wrong with this picture – shouldn't he be looking at a barn roof right now? "Crap, I'm dead – _again!_" he thought. Finally, he decided to move his head, only slightly though, because everything started swimming in and out of focus. "I'm in hell" he concluded, in a kind of detached, unconcerned way. He was in a world of pink and lace. Pink curtains with lace trim, pink floral wallpaper, pink lampshade with more lace. As his gaze travelled around the room, he spotted a posy of dried, brownish pink flowers, then the pink carpeted floor, and finally, back to the bedding, which matched the curtains. The lace trim on the pillow was just catching against the stubble on his chin. "Yep, hell." He drifted back into unconsciousness.

Sam had an idea and mentally kicked himself for not thinking of it before. He could track Dean's location using his cell phone and the same web database Dean had used to find him a few months ago, when he had been possessed and gone AWOL. Putting aside the memory of what Dean had told him he had done back then, he opened up the laptop and soon had the web site open.

Having acquired a reasonable idea of the location, he needed transport – Dean was a good two hour drive away. There were several cars out in the parking lot. And as much as he hated the idea, he knew he had no choice – he'd have to steal one of them. He packed up his and Dean's few possessions and checked that no one was about, then left very quietly. He chose an old, rusting Honda Civic - mostly because it was easier to steal than the other newer cars with their immobilisers. He realised it was going to be a pretty uncomfortable drive as soon as he sat behind the steering wheel – it certainly wasn't designed for someone of Sam's height! He had to scrunch down to keep his head from grazing against the roof, and his knees were jammed up under the steering wheel. He pulled out of the lot and headed off to find his brother.

Dean was dreaming and trying to call out in his sleep, though in fact he was making no sound, but was moving around in the bed.

"Hey – it's okay."

The voice worked its way into his consciousness, and finally Dean opened his eyes. After the blurred image cleared, he realised he was looking into the face of a woman. He started at the unexpectedness of it and felt his heart beating much too fast. He turned his head just enough to see a large man standing in the bedroom doorway, cradling a rifle. A cool, damp cloth was pressed gently to his forehead and then his burning cheeks. He tried to speak but all that came out of his parched throat was an unintelligible "ngh" and his tongue seemed to be twice its normal size.

"Hello Dean – it is Dean isn't it? I'm Kelly and that's Earl. He found you in the barn."

"Here, try some water" Kelly said, and supported his head with one arm while holding a glass of water to his lips. He tried to drink but found he was unable to do even that and most of the water just dribbled down his chin and neck. The coldness of it against his heated skin, made him shiver. Kelly laid his head carefully back on the pillow and mopped up the spilt water.

"Don't worry; I'll get you a straw. You're going to be fine". She and Earl left and, within moments, Dean fell back into a fitful sleep.

Sam cursed more with each pothole he encountered. Damn stupid country roads! Fuming but determined, he drove on, as fast as the ridiculous car would go. His cramped legs were on fire and he had lost count of the number of times his head had banged on the roof. The headache pulsing across the top of his skull was nothing to do with that though. The vision of his brother - either dead or near to it, had seriously unnerved him. With their father gone, and Jess and his mother too, Dean was all Sam had. The vision surely meant he had a chance of saving his brother? Otherwise, what was the point of them? A vision had helped him save Dean before and he felt sure this time was the same. Anything else was unthinkable.

He checked his map and realised he must be very close now. A pale, wintry sun was sinking rapidly below the tree line and soon it would be dark. Sam didn't want to contemplate the notion of Dean lying all night, wounded, in a freezing barn. Oddly, rising panic seemed to help him focus and he made a quick right turn when he saw a sign for the Munroe Farm. The road narrowed to little more than a track and trees closed in on either side, but eventually he arrived at the farm and immediately spotted a barn over to the right. He stood on the brakes and was out and running towards the barn in seconds. Passing the Impala, his heart was thumping wildly as he pushed open the door. It was completely dark now and he couldn't see anything. He pulled a flashlight from his pocket and flicked it on. As the beam tracked across the barn, he noted the straw bales he had seen in his vision. But there was no sign of Dean. Feeling even more panicky, he went over to where Dean had been lying and instantly saw dried blood on the floor, both there and further off to the left. And there was his cell phone too! Picking it up, he realised Dean must have lost an awful lot of blood – surely there was no way he had walked away from this? Before he had time to form any other thoughts, a noise startled him and he spun round to see the silhouette of something very tall, filling the doorway. As he played the flashlight across its face, Sam realised it wasn't human. Suddenly it moved with lightning speed and had knocked him out cold before he had a chance to do anything. Grabbing hold of one of Sam's legs, the creature dragged him out of the barn and off into the freezing night. Sam's head bumped and scraped across the frozen undergrowth, snagging on stones and roots, which tore at his scalp and the sides of his face as his head jolted from side to side. Fortunately, right then he couldn't feel a thing.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N1 - Okay, thanks to Twinchy for suggesting putting in dividers when I switch perspectives - hope it works out okay! (and thanks for the help too!)

A/N2 - The demon is 100% invention and is AU as he isn't and never has been, human.

* * *

Kelly looked up from the book she was reading when she noticed Dean move his head towards her.

"Where am I?" he croaked through paper dry lips. She brought him a glass of water, this time with a straw.

"Here, take a few sips and don't try to talk yet". Dean did as he was told, relishing the cool, soothing water running over his tongue but gagging slightly as he tried to swallow.

"Okay, don't overdo it – you can have some more in a minute." She took the glass away and his head sank back to the soft pillow as he slipped back into a deep sleep.

A little later, Kelly heard Dean stirring. He seemed agitated and his voice was little more than a rasping whisper as he called out. Kelly leaned in to try to hear what he was saying.

"Tell Sammy…" Dean's tortured voice trailed off into a coughing fit, which hurt his side so much, he nearly passed out again. But he had to stay awake so he could warn Sam. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on breathing and calming himself down. The pain from his wound was intense and he felt nauseous and weak.

Turning desperate eyes to the woman hovering over him, he whispered.

"Please, I need my cell phone."

Kelly got up and went through the pockets of his jacket and jeans but didn't find the phone.

"It's not here Dean – I found your wallet before so I could find out your name, but there's no sign of a cell phone. Maybe it's in the barn. I'll get Earl to look for it in the morning."

"No! That's too late!" Dean was feebly struggling to get out of the bed, but Kelly gently pushed his shoulders back against the pillows.

"Dean, you can't be moving around like this. You'll start your wound bleeding again. Okay, look if it's that important to you, I'll send Earl out to look for it now, but he won't be best pleased with you. It's freezing out there!"

She went out onto the landing and called down the stairs.

"Earl, sorry about this but could you please take a look in the barn for a cell phone?"

Dean was vaguely aware of a door closing somewhere downstairs. Then, maybe 5 minutes later, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs and was desperately relieved to see his cell phone, looking like a small toy in Earl's giant hand. Earl handed it over.

"Guess this flashlight is yours too?" He held up Sam's flashlight and Dean's heart sank. The demon already had his brother.

"There's another car out there now too" Earl murmured to Kelly as he turned to leave.

"Wait – Earl! You didn't see anything unusual out there?" Dean looked to Earl, hoping for some kind of news.

"You mean apart from the car? No." He lumbered off, mumbling a gruff "yes" to Kelly's request for coffee.

"Thanks Earl." She called after him.

"Don't mind him! He's got a heart of gold really. Just doesn't like strangers much and today has been pretty strange what with finding you in the barn and now this second car. That must be something to do with you too, right?" Getting no response, Kelly glanced at Dean but realised he wasn't listening. In fact he was deep in thought. He had a pretty good idea he knew what the demon was that had taken Sam – and also what it wanted. He needed more information though and the only way he could get it was with Sam's laptop. That must be in the abandoned car outside – Sam must have stolen it.

Dean looked up at Kelly.

"That other car belongs to my brother Sam – he's in trouble and I really need a favour."

* * *

Sam was tied to a chair, hands and feet bound with thick ropes. He didn't really know how long he'd been out, but he could taste blood in his mouth from where he had bitten his tongue, and knew there must be drying scabs all over his face and scalp. A couple of deeper lacerations were oozing slightly and he could feel the chill of the blood on his skin as it cooled in the freezing air. He whole head ached and throbbed all over – on the inside as well as the outside. He opened one eye – the other was glued shut with congealed blood he guessed – but he could see little in the intense gloom. Apart from the chair he was tied to, all he could make out was a small wood burning stove, which was lit. The door on the front of it was very slightly ajar – and that was the only illumination in the room. The glow didn't reach the corners of the room however, which were in deep shadow.

Sam heard a light chuckling noise from behind him. He strained his head sideways but couldn't see anything.

"Hello Sam. So good to meet you at last."

"Wish I could say the same thing." Sam's head was thumped sideways and he saw stars briefly.

"Oh, humour! I thought your brother was the one with the smart mouth? Emphasis on the word _was_!" More laughter. Sam said nothing, though his heart was now hammering violently in his chest.

"Oh, well now, aren't we the stoic one?" A blur at his side, and suddenly the creature was looming over him. He couldn't really make out the features very well in the dark, but clearly this was no human. Too tall for a start, and there seemed to be something almost lizard-like about its face.

"You know, considering the Winchester reputation, killing him was almost too easy! I just slid the knife in nice and deep and left him to bleed to death. You should have seen all the blood! Oh but of course! You did _see_ it, didn't you Sammy? You're a special child after all. Very special indeed."

Sam tried to rid his mind of the image of Dean, lying in a pool of his own blood. _He's not dead, he's not dead. _He repeated it like a mantra, trying to convince himself it was true.

"If he's dead, where is his body? It wasn't in the barn." The eye that had been blood-crusted shut, finally broke open and Sam stared defiantly at the creature. He had worked out it was probably a demon of some sort.

"That's because he crawled out of the barn, on his hands and knees like a pathetic, wounded animal, and made it to the trees before he died. In agony by the way."

"He's not dead!" Sam spat out "you're lying!"

The demon chuckled again. "Oh, but I assure you he is, little Sammy! No one is coming to rescue you this time – they're all gone! Everyone who ever cared about you – all dead. Poor Sammy, all alone in the world. What will you do now? Keep fighting the good fight on your own? Of course you would need to get away from me first, and that could be tricky as I am in no rush to let you go!" He ran a razor sharp talon down the length of Sam's cheek, drawing fresh blood to join the dried streaks already there. Sam flinched and tried to pull away from him, but the ropes held him fast.

"What do you want with me?"

"Oh, there's plenty of time to get to that. But wait! Where are my manners? I haven't even introduced myself!" The demon clutched its chest in mock horror at its social gaffe.

"I am Jarveld – of the _Hell_ Jarvelds that is!" He cackled at his own wit. Sam stayed silent. He was wracking his brains trying to work out if he had ever heard of this demon, but he came up blank. He was also fighting the idea that Dean really was dead. Though this Jarveld sounded very convincing. Still Demons were known to lie. He held on to a glimmer of hope that his brother was still alive, albeit wounded. Either way, he would have to find his own way out of this particular situation. Not that things looked all that promising just now. The ropes were too thick and tightly tied for him to work them loose.

"Now where was I? Oh yes. You're all alone Sammy. Has it occurred to you that you could go back to school now? You only took on this hunting job to help your brother and find your father. But they're both gone now. There's nothing to stop you making a new life for yourself. You could get a good job, meet a nice girl. Well _another_ nice girl anyway!" Jarveld chuckled.

Rage boiled up inside Sam and he strained against the ropes. He wanted nothing more than to ram his fist down this demon's throat to shut him up. Jarveld seemed to know every button to push and every word that came out of his mouth tore at feelings Sam had struggled to bury. It was like he was deliberately picking open old wounds. He couldn't even put his hands over his ears to make it stop. So he was surprised when suddenly it did stop. There was silence and Jarveld seemed to have disappeared. Sam again tried to look behind him but still couldn't make anything out. He was left sitting there, in the freezing cold, unable to move and alone with his thoughts, which were turning increasingly dark.

* * *

Kelly had gone with Earl to get the laptop, and between them they picked up the two duffel bags they found there too, and brought everything up to Dean. Then Kelly helped him sit upright against the freshly plumped pillows. The pain of moving made his eyes swim but he soon had the laptop open and was doing his best to find out more about the demon – in particular, how to track it and how to kill it – he had guessed correctly and already knew what it wanted. Though he had a thin tee-shirt on, he started shivering and Kelly helped him put on an overshirt from his duffel bag – wrinkling her nose at the smell, she offered to do some laundry.

"Not that I generally go around offering to do laundry for strangers, you understand, but this bag is stinking the room out."

"Really? I hadn't noticed" Dean barely looked up from the screen. Clean laundry was the least of his concerns but he might as well keep Kelly occupied in the hopes she wouldn't start asking too many awkward questions.

"Oh hey, Kelly, could you leave me some jeans. I need to get dressed. And by the way, who undressed me?" He smirked until he heard her reply.

"Actually, that was Earl." When she saw his face she laughed, adding "okay, just kidding, it was both of us."

"Oh, I feel _so_ much better now." He went back to his research, but in no time his eyelids were beginning to droop. By the time Kelly came back, he had slumped sideways and was snoring lightly. The laptop was teetering on the edge of the bed so Kelly picked it up and put it on the side table. She eased Dean back onto the pillows as best she could and switched off the light. She was heading towards the door when she stopped and went back for the laptop. It was still switched on. She pulled the door, 'til it was just slightly ajar.

She took the laptop downstairs and sat with it at a big wooden table in the kitchen. There was no password on the screensaver so when she hit the keypad the screen re-opened at the web site Dean had been viewing. Earl wandered in and poured them both mugs of black coffee. Sitting down at the table, he asked Kelly what she was looking at.

"Earl, you wouldn't believe it if I told you! Here, take a look for yourself." She turned the laptop screen towards him and noticed his eyes widening as he read the screen.

"What the hell is this guy looking at this stuff for?" From the dark look on Earl's face, Kelly had an idea he aimed to find out.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N - Warning for some language on this one. Nothing major.

* * *

There was a thump from upstairs. Kelly was first up the stairs and Earl followed more slowly behind her. In the bedroom they found Dean curled up on the floor, clearly in agony.

"Dean! What are you doing? Did you fall out of bed?"

Earl went straight over to Dean and scooped him up as if he weighed nothing. He placed him, surprisingly gently, back on the bed, pulling the covers over him.

"Thanks Earl" Kelly said. Earl said nothing but went back to stand at his now customary position just outside the bedroom door. Kelly knew he had been suspicious of Dean from the start and the contents of the web site clearly hadn't helped. She was pretty curious herself, but her gut instinct was that Dean was not a threat to them, despite the strange goings on since this morning.

Dean was in a great deal of pain. He had woken up and tried to get out of the bed but had been too weak to stand, let alone walk and had just crumpled to the floor. His side was now on fire and he was panicking at how weak he was. How was he supposed to find Sam, let alone help him, in this state?

Kelly left the room briefly. When she came back she sat on the side of the bed and handed him a couple of pills. Dean was suspicious.

"What are they?"

"Just painkillers. I'm not trying to poison you or anything!"

"They won't put me to sleep will they?" Dean took them from her, but still didn't put them in his mouth.

"No, they won't, but you do need to get more sleep. Now come on, swallow – you'll feel better."

She held the glass of water out and Dean finally swallowed the pills along with a gulp of water. He was embarrassed to see his hand shaking as he handed the glass back.

"I've got to get out there and find my brother. Hey! Where's the laptop?" He looked accusingly at Kelly, who blushed slightly.

"Oh yeah. Well you fell asleep and it was gonna fall off the bed. I took it downstairs."

"Did you look at anything on it?"

Kelly looked Dean straight in the eye. "Yes I did. So did Earl."

"Oh"

"Yeah. So we were wondering why you would be looking up demons and stuff when your brother has gone missing. Wouldn't like to fill us in would you? 'Cos right now it all seems pretty strange."

***

Sam was starting to nod off when he heard the now familiar chuckling. His head snapped up the moment he heard it. And there was Jarveld, right in front of him. His feet and hands were going numb from the cold and the lack of circulation caused by the tightly bound ropes.

"I was just having a little chat with your dad Sam."

"Sure you were!" Sam glared at Jarveld.

"Sam, you don't seem to believe a word I say! I am hurt! But you know, I had a feeling you might not believe me. So this should convince you. I know the very last thing your father said to you before he died – _so_ heart-warming!" Jarveld's tone was mocking. Sam remembered only too well what had passed between them before his father died. He couldn't believe this demon could possibly know about it. But Jarveld's next sentence confirmed he did. He was virtually laughing out the words "would you mind gettin' me a cup of caffeine?" Then he really was laughing.

"He sure loved you didn't he? Just think, he knew he was about to die and that was all he could think of to say to you!" Jarveld was clutching his sides laughing now, and something passing for tears was falling from his eyes.

"And you know what's even funnier? He had that long, emotional, _loving_ conversation with Dean while you were gone – told him how proud he was of him! Guess we know which son he loved best, don't we Sam?"

"Shut up you bastard!" Sam's eyes stung but he was determined not to cry.

Jarveld came right up to Sam, and Sam could feel and smell his breath as he spoke.

"You know Sam, if you hadn't been given that special gift, your life would have been so different - so much better. Don't you think?"

"Get away from me! What the hell do you want?"

Jarveld moved around behind him, and the next thing he knew, the chair was being pushed towards the stove til his knees were just inches from the door. He could feel the heat through the denim of his jeans and was actually quite grateful for it. Though of course, he said nothing.

"I have to be going for a while. Thought you might like to sit by the stove – it's such a cold night isn't it?"

He was gone and Sam was again left alone. His mind was reeling. Jarveld really seemed to know everything about him and his family. It seemed like everything he said was true. Had his father really loved Dean more than him? He _had_ sent him away to get coffee so he could talk to Dean alone – that much was true. But that was because of the big secret – and he knew all about that now. But why had he only told Dean he was proud of him? Hadn't he been proud of both of his sons? Jarveld was right! His father knew he was about to die and hadn't had a kind word for him – he had sent him away so he could talk to Dean alone! No! He pushed the thought away. It wasn't true! Jarveld was just playing with his mind. Conflicting thoughts kept reverberating around his head, tormenting him, until finally he became aware of a burning sensation at the front of his legs. The heat had been welcome at first, but now it was becoming unbearable, and he couldn't get away from it. Before he knew what he was doing, he heard himself calling out

"Jarveld!" And instantly Jarveld appeared by his side.

"Why Sam! I am so surprised to hear you calling for me! What can I do for you?"

"My legs are burning!" Sam gasped - the denim of his jeans started to smoulder.

Jarveld moved the chair away but the denim was still searingly hot against Sam's knees and shins. He was on the verge of passing out from the pain, but he was shocked awake by the splash of freezing water that Jarveld threw over his legs.

"There! Is that better Sam?"

Sam was bewildered. What could Jarveld want? He seemed to be torturing him but didn't ask for anything, so what was the point? As steam swirled up from the burnt denim in front of him, he had a temporary reprieve from the burning sensation on his legs, but he realised they must be blistered quite badly. Soon enough he was in agony again, and despite the icy coldness of the room, he started to both sweat and shiver.

"What? No 'thank you' Sam? I thought you were brought up better than that! No wait! You were hardly brought up at all were you? All that travelling from place to place, no roots, all those different schools. It's a wonder you ever made it to College! It's really very impressive Sam."

Jarveld revealed a mass of yellowed, pointed teeth in what Sam presumed, was supposed to be a grin.

"Oh Sam, my poor boy! You're shivering! Would you like me to push the chair back in front of the fire?"

"No!" Sam's teeth were chattering and he wondered if he might be going into shock as his body tried to deal with burns to his legs while the rest of him was freezing cold and his hands were completely numb.

"Some food then? You must be starving!"

Sam wondered how much longer before he found out what Jarveld wanted from him.

"I'm not hungry! Just tell me what you want."

"Now Sam – how ungrateful you are! I'm here to do you a favour and this is the thanks I get? Tsk, tsk. What would your mother say? Oh, but then, you wouldn't know would you? Since you never knew her at all. That's just so sad I could cry!"

"Shut up about my mother, you bastard!" Sam was starting to feel dizzy and had a strange sensation that he was floating out of his body. He fell unconscious to the sound of Jarveld's mocking voice.

***

Dean looked up at two expectant faces and knew he was going to have to come clean with these people.

"Well you might as well both sit down then – not that you're going to believe me anyway." He started to talk.

By the time he finished, both Kelly and Earl were looking at him with stunned expressions on their faces and the room was silent. Dean looked back at them, trying to gauge their reaction. It was pretty important that they believed him as he knew in his current state, he had no way of finding Sam without their help.

The silence was becoming uncomfortable, until finally Kelly spoke.

"That's quite a story Dean. Why should we believe it?"

"You mean you want proof? I don't have any. But if you help me find Sam, I can guarantee you'll believe me when you see the demon that has him."

"And how are we supposed to find your brother and this demon?" Earl asked. The guy seemed to have a permanent frown on his face.

"That's what I was looking up on the laptop. He will have taken Sam somewhere remote and dark. Are there any caves or abandoned buildings around here? Somewhere nobody ever goes?"

Earl pondered and the frown deepened as he thought.

"There's old Ma Hudson's place. Nobody's been near it in years. Not sure if it's even still standing."

"Well it sounds like that's where we need to go." Dean shifted uneasily.

"Uh, Earl, I wouldn't ask normally but I can't do this on my own. Would you help me look for my brother?" Dean absolutely hated having to ask a _civilian_ for help but what choice did he have?

After a quick look and a nod from Earl, Kelly replied for both of them.

"We'll help you find your brother Dean. I can't say I believe you about demons and such, but someone stabbed you, and someone had to have driven that second car here, so I'm willing to believe that your brother is around here somewhere and that he may be in trouble. That'll have to do for now. Is that okay?" Kelly looked at Dean and saw genuine relief and gratitude on his face. She gave him a warm smile.

"Are those painkillers kicking in yet? They're pretty strong."

Dean had to admit the pain had reduced considerably.

"Yeah, actually they are. What were they anyway?"

Kelly looked uncomfortable.

"They're prescription painkillers. My husband was taking them before he died…"

"Your husband? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry or anything." Dean spotted the ring on Kelly's finger for the first time.

"It's okay. He had cancer. Died a year ago."

Dean felt embarrassed and awkward. This was Sam's territory, he'd know what to say.

"Kelly, I am really sorry."

Kelly became businesslike and started fussing with his pillows.

"Dean, it's nearly morning. You'll be more use to your brother if you get some more rest and then we will head out to the Hudson place when it's daylight – deal?"

"Well it doesn't seem like I have much choice here, does it? I just hope Sam can hold out til we find him." Dean's only solace was that he knew the demon wouldn't be in a hurry to kill his brother, but it was small comfort when he also knew that if Sam resisted, it would have no compunctions about torturing him to get what it wanted.

Kelly couldn't fail to notice the concern on Dean's face. Clearly he was very close to his brother. That was obvious. But this story of demons and hunting was too far-fetched to be believable. She felt fairly sure all they would find when they went looking for Sam, would be a young man sleeping off a hangover. Although that didn't explain how Dean had come to be stabbed in her barn. It was all very mysterious and not at all what she was used to on the remote farm.

Dean was already beginning to fall asleep so she went to turn the bedside lamp off. Casting a last glance at his face, she was struck by his appearance for the first time. Asleep, the frown lines on his forehead were smoothed out. There were tiny crows' feet at the corners of his eyes – eyes that were framed with impossibly long lashes. He had a scattering of freckles over his cheeks and nose and full, almost feminine lips, and there was a long ago healed scar just visible through the light stubble on his chin. She shook herself out of her reverie, feeling strangely guilty, and turned off the lamp, leaving Dean to sleep on, oblivious to her scrutiny.

***

A stinging slap across the face jolted Sam awake and snapped his head sideways. Straight away he realised he was no longer tied to the chair, and there was a thick blanket wrapped around him. His legs were still burning but the circulation seemed to be coming back to his hands. Again he had to wonder what the hell this Jarveld wanted. None of this made any sense and he was starting to feel very disorientated, with no sense of how long he had been held captive.

Jarveld produced a small table and placed it in front of Sam. On the table, there was a plate of something resembling stew with a knife and fork beside it and a beaker containing what looked like milk. On another, smaller, plate there were three cookies. As the steam rising from the stew drifted towards him, Sam had to admit it smelt pretty good.

"Come Sam, tuck in! This is all very healthy stuff to help keep your energy levels up."

Sam's heart sank as he wondered just how long he was going to be here if Jarveld was concerned about keeping him well fed. Or maybe it was just a trick? Maybe the food was poisoned? But what would be the point of that? Of course nothing Jarveld did seemed to have a point to it.

Sam hesitated. Jarveld didn't seem interested in killing him – not straight away anyway. So the food probably wasn't poisoned. The aroma from the stew finally persuaded him to try it. Very tentatively he picked up the fork and speared a chunk of meat, gingerly putting it into his mouth and wincing as the hot salty gravy found its way to the bite wound on his tongue. He started chewing and found it tender and very tasty – it was beef. Encouraged, he went back for more and in no time had finished off the plate. Suffering no immediate ill-effects, he turned to the milk and cookies. They too disappeared rapidly. The hot stew was warming him up from within and he felt drowsy and sated. Very drowsy actually – and quite happy and comfortable in fact. Sam's head was starting to roll around. He was feeling quite euphoric and grinning foolishly. The food wasn't poisoned but it must have been drugged! Sam was hazily aware of it but didn't seem to care anymore. He started to giggle for no particular reason.

Jarveld put a huge taloned hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Well Sam, I see you enjoyed that? And you seem to be in very good spirits too! How nice to see you smiling! Not something you have done too much of this last year I'm guessing? Wouldn't you like to feel this way all the time Sam?"

"I feel GREAT!" Sam flung his arms out wide but they immediately flopped down to his sides while his head fell forward, chin coming to rest on his chest.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N 1 Well, I am in an awkward situation. This chapter is ready - ahead of schedule. Stick to schedule or post? I chose to post. Sue me! LOL

A/N 2 Warning for language is in force again.

A/N 3 PA Davis - many apologies! I got your PM after I posted chapter 3! (Puts hex on evil email service) Thanks so much for your help and comments!

* * *

Jarveld grabbed Sam's hair and yanked his head back up.

"Now Sammy, no falling asleep! Seems you humans are highly susceptible to drugs. Must remember to use less next time." However, looking at Sam's heavily hooded eyes he realised there was no way he could keep him awake. He would have to sleep some of it off. But not _all_ of it of course. He left – confident his plan was working.

Sam waited several minutes before moving. He wanted to be quite sure Jarveld had gone. Slowly raising his head, he opened his eyes. It was time to go and this might be the only chance he would get. Though he had realised the meal was drugged, it hadn't affected him anywhere near as much as he had made out. He stood up and nearly collapsed from the pain of the burns on his knees and shins. It felt like the skin was going to fall off as the blood rushed to his lower limbs after the enforced period of sitting down. Gingerly, he tried taking a step. As his foot hit the floor the slight jolt of it sent fresh, throbbing agony shooting up his legs. This was clearly going to be a painful escape. He searched for a door in the darkness but couldn't see anything. With no time to worry about it, he decided to walk forwards til he felt a wall and then feel his way around the room until he found the door. Every jarring step was fresh burning torture but he pressed on slowly forward, arms stretched in front of him.

Something snapped and crunched around his left ankle, and for a brief, sickening moment, he knew his ankle was broken - just before he crashed, passed out, to the floor.

He didn't know how long it was before he woke. But he was crying out in agony as Jarveld dragged him across the floor by one arm and then hoisted him up onto the chair like he was a rag doll. The pain from his ankle was unbearable and he could feel the broken ends of bone grinding against each other. Jarveld yanked his arms roughly back around the backrest of the chair, and tied them so tightly that Sam's shoulders started aching immediately from the strain. He was in so much pain he didn't think he could stand it much longer.

As it happened, Jarveld was in no mood to wait around any more. He threw a bucket of ice cold water all over Sam which had him gasping and spluttering. He shook his head to try to shake off the rivulets of icy water streaming into his eyes and dripping from his jaw. Ringing wet tendrils of hair stuck to his forehead and the back of his neck. He was shivering in earnest now as his freezing, soaking shirt clung to his skin. This time there was no false concern from Jarveld. Standing in front of Sam, he nudged the foot of Sam's broken leg and Sam screamed.

"Scream all you want Sam, no one can hear you. No one is coming to save you."

Sam was in a world of white hot pain.

"What do you want with me? Just tell me! What do you fucking want?"

Dean was dead. Everyone was gone. What did it even matter any more?

***

Thin, watery daylight filtered through the curtains as Dean woke - to a need to find the bathroom. He felt more alert, though his wound reminded him of its presence as soon as he tried to move. He pulled the blankets aside and very carefully manoeuvred himself to a seated position at the edge of the bed. He used his arms to push himself up and felt a little woozy as he got to his feet. But it soon passed and he made his way to the bedroom door. He was fairly pleased with his progress and was soon out on the landing and trying to work out which door led to the bathroom. He tried the nearest one, successfully as it happened, which was just as well as he was pretty desperate. When he was done, he splashed his face with some water at the basin. He was in dire need of a shave and a shower but there was no time for that right now. He grabbed a towel and dried his face, but when he lowered it he saw Kelly standing in the doorway – in pink flannel pyjamas with a little scene of sheep leaping over a fence on the front. Dean couldn't understand why but he found the whole thing adorable. He smiled at her without even realising he was doing it.

"Sorry Dean, I didn't realise anyone was in here. Are you okay? Do you need anything?" She stayed at the doorway.

"Hi Kelly. No, no, I'm good."

"Okay. Well I'm going to get a pot of coffee on the go. Do you think you can make it down the stairs or do you need me to wake Earl to give you a hand?"

"God no! Ah, I mean, no, I'll be fine – definitely don't wake Earl on my account!" Dean gave her a half-hearted smile and hobbled across to the door and went to his room to get dressed. Kelly headed down the stairs. Of course, getting dressed was no picnic it turned out. Every time he bent or twisted even slightly, his wound pulled and stung, so getting his jeans on involved a fair amount of cursing. Putting on socks and boots defeated him and he decided he would have to ask for help, though it killed him to have to.

Barefoot at the top of the stairs, he wobbled a little but kept a firm, double-handed grip on the left banister and managed to get down them without mishap, though it took a while. He was quite pleased with himself as he made his way, hand clutched to his side, into the kitchen. The coffee smelt fantastic and he gratefully took the steaming mug of hot, bitter liquid Kelly handed him and sank onto a kitchen chair. She had her back to him as she fried bacon and eggs but turned around to ask if he wanted toast or waffles.

"Oh, uh, just whatever you're having will be fine. Sorry to be putting you out like this." He dazzled her with his trademark smile… except she wasn't dazzled. She went back to tending the bacon and eggs.

"You're not."

Dean was slightly thrown.

"Not what?"

"Putting us out."

"Okay.. well good. I guess. And.. thanks."

Dean drank his coffee and Kelly continued making breakfast.

"When does Earl usually get up?"

"Oh, Earl is like clockwork. In the summer, he gets up at 5.30am and in the winter, 7.30 on the dot. He'll be down any minute." And sure enough moments later they heard footsteps on the stairs. Earl came into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and yawning. He gave Dean a fairly unfriendly glance and then sat down at the table. Dean had a feeling he might be sitting in the wrong chair. Kelly put a mug of coffee in front of the huge man.

"Usual for breakfast Earl?"

"Sure, thanks Kelly." She put plates of food in front of both men and then sat down with her own. For a time, the only sound was the occasional clink of a knife or fork against a plate. There was definite tension between Earl and Dean, and the atmosphere was decidedly uncomfortable. Dean couldn't wait to get started looking for Sam.

Earl finished eating.

"You'll need crutches."

"I'll be fine."

"No you won't, you'll slow us down enough as it is."

"Don't worry about me."

"I'm not. But I'm not carrying you when you fall over."

"Hey guys! Come on, let's play nice huh? Dean we have some crutches. They're from when Jim – my husband - couldn't get around so well." There was a catch in her voice but Kelly turned all businesslike again, collecting plates and mugs and putting them in the sink.

"Uh, Earl, would you go find those crutches please – I think they're under the stairs? I'm going to go get dressed."

With both men staring at her retreating back, she hurried out of the kitchen and angrily wiped away a tear as she climbed the stairs.

Earl got up and left Dean alone in the kitchen. He finished his coffee and would have liked a second mug but they had wasted enough time already. So he struggled up the stairs to get his socks and boots. Knowing he couldn't get them on without help, he called out to Kelly. She arrived after a slight delay – now wearing a hooded fleece and jeans, to find Dean sitting, rather forlornly, on the bed. Realising straight away what the problem was, she knelt down to pull his socks on for him.

"This is embarrassing."

"No one ever put your socks on for you?" She scoffed.

Dean wracked his brain. As far as he knew he'd always put his own socks on. But his mom _probably_ put his socks on.. he just couldn't remember. He could remember battling to put little Sammy's socks on though! He smiled at the memory.

"So, funny sock memories Dean?"

"Oh! Sorry. Uh, yeah, sorta. Listen thanks for helping me out here. I really appreciate it."

She didn't reply but pushed on his boots and started doing up the laces. He tried again.

"Uh, Kelly, I'm sorry if we upset you earlier? I don't think Earl is my biggest fan and…."

Kelly sighed and her shoulders slumped a little.

"It's not you guys really. I just get stupid sometimes when I think about Jim. I miss him - you know?"

"Yeah, I think I get it." Dean was squirming inside.

"Oh, of course, your Mom and Dad." Kelly finally looked up and made eye contact with him. She got up and sat on the bed next to him after tying off the second pair of laces.

"Sam is all the family you have left then?"

"There was an uncle but I don't know if he's still alive – never met him." Dean was feeling increasingly uncomfortable. He seemed to be smack in the middle of a "chick-flick" moment - he just hated this sort of conversation.

"I have Earl – he's my cousin and I have a sister-in-law but we don't really get along all that well."

"Oh, Earl's your cousin – I was wondering. Look Kelly I don't want to seem harsh, but could we please go get my brother?"

"Of course. Sorry." She helped him up off the bed and was going to support him while he walked but he gently removed her arm from his.

"It's okay, Kelly I can do this. I got down the stairs on my own already remember?" He didn't miss the hurt look –he just chose to ignore it..

At the bottom of the stairs Earl was waiting with the crutches and what could only be described as a scowl. Kelly helped Dean on with his leather jacket and then he tried out the crutches. Placing one under each armpit, he launched himself forward. The forward momentum was quite good, though it still hurt like hell, but at least he could move a little faster this way. There wasn't, of course, anything actually anything wrong with his legs, it just took a bit off pressure off the wound this way. He grudgingly thanked Earl for the suggestion.

Earl said nothing, just turned his back to Dean and put on a thick, quilted jacket and gloves, along with a woollen hat. Kelly pulled on a similar padded jacket and gloves of her own. Dean seemed underdressed by comparison. Not that he seemed aware of it until she mentioned it.

"Dean, it's below freezing outside. At the very least you need some gloves. Do you have any?"

"Uh, no, but it's okay, I don't really feel the cold." Kelly went to the cupboard under the stairs and came back with a pair of gloves and another woollen hat.

"Here, put these on unless you want to add hypothermia to your problems."

Dean did as he was told, trying not to think about the previous owner of the items. And then his dad's training kicked in.

"Look, before we go. This demon is pretty straightforward to kill, just needs to be shot with a consecrated iron bullet. I've got a gun already loaded in the trunk of the car. We can pick it up on the way."

He caught the disbelieving looks passing between Earl and Kelly. Kelly at least looked apologetic when she realised he had noticed.

"We don't have time for this. Just humour me - please?"

"Sure Dean. Come on then guys – Earl, you lead the way." Earl picked up his rifle, clearly not impressed with Dean's iron bullet story, and they headed out into the freezing early morning air.

Stopping briefly at the Impala, they headed into the trees. Earl could easily see where the track had been disturbed recently so it looked like he was right about it being Ma Hudson's place. Dean found the rough ground fairly hard going on the crutches but was keeping up as best he could, though they did have to stop every 10 minutes or so for him to catch his breath. The exertion was causing him to breathe heavily and the freezing air hurt his lungs but he was glad to be finally on the move.

It was nearly 40 minutes before they reached the house. It looked pretty run down from the outside and the windows were all boarded up. However, the thin trickle of smoke from the chimney indicated that someone was inside. And moments later the sound of someone screaming in agony confirmed it.

"That's Sam!"


	5. Chapter 5

A/N 1 Same warning as before for swearing.

* * *

Dean propelled himself forward as fast as he could on the crutches but was quickly overtaken by Earl.

"Earl wait!" He hissed.

Earl stopped and, turning, caught the gun Dean threw to him.

"Iron bullets! This thing is really fast and really strong, you have to kill it before it gets anywhere near you."

"Right." Earl crept up the porch steps, but the aged boards creaked alarmingly under his considerable weight. Standing stock still, he waited to see if he had alerted anyone inside. Nothing happened. He leant in against a boarded window to see if he could hear anything, but a muffled voice was all he could make out. Kelly and Dean were at the porch steps now and Dean discarded the crutches to climb them. They huddled at the other side of the door.

Another loud cry of pain from inside was too much for Dean. He would normally shoulder or kick the door open but in his current state, neither was an option. So he went the Sammy route and tried the door handle. And miraculously it was unlocked! Earl came up to the door and pushed it open, sending a shaft of watery daylight into the room and lighting up the face of something not quite human. He wasted no time and shot at it twice. The thing staggered and fell against someone tied to a chair, knocking them and the chair sideways. Earl went inside, closely followed by Dean and Kelly. He studied the creature. It appeared to be dead, but he was taking no chances and kept the weapon trained on it.

Heedless of his wound, Dean dropped to the floor next to Sam and untied his arms from the chair. Then he pulled Sam partially upright and hugged him against his chest.

"Sam!" But Sam was unconscious. Dean wasn't too concerned at the cuts and bruises all over his face; it was the fact that he was ice cold and wasn't waking up that was worrying him. Sam's clothes were soaking wet too. He took off his jacket with some difficulty, ignoring the pain, and wrapped it around the too-still form of his brother.

"Come on Sammy, wake up."

"Dean, leave him be for now." Kelly had noticed that Sam's foot was at an unnatural angle and guessed his ankle was broken. It was best he was out of it for the moment. It occurred to her that they were going to have a hard time getting him back to the house.

Earl called over to Dean.

"I think this thing is dead. Wanna check it?"

Dean didn't want to let go of Sam. He was too relieved to have found him. There was a question he needed to ask him when he came round, but that could wait. The main thing was he was alive.

"Sorry Sam." He hugged his brother's limp body to him even tighter.

Seeing Dean there on the floor holding his brother like that made Kelly feel sorry she had doubted him. Still, it was time to go. Sam needed help but before that they needed to get him back to the house. Which was a problem.

"Earl, any chance you could take a look around to see if there's anything here to make into some kind of stretcher?"

"On it."

Dean carefully smoothed damp hair away from Sam's forehead trying to avoid opening up any of the myriad cuts. He was desperate for Sam to wake up so he could really check he was okay.

"Dean, I'm going to check his leg – I'm pretty sure it's broken. If he happens to wake up it's going to hurt a hell of a lot and you'll need to keep him still for me, okay?"

"Okay."

Dean wrapped both his arms around Sam's upper body. Sam's head lay sideways on his chest. Kelly very gently rolled up the bottom of the left leg of Sam's jeans, revealing a blood-soaked and torn sock. When she carefully peeled the sock down, the full extent of the injury was clear and glancing at the sprung trap near the door, she knew what had caused it. The vicious metal teeth of the trap had punctured Sam's ankle twice on either side, punching holes through the denim of his jeans, the material of his sock and finally into his flesh. The bone had snapped under the force of the spring mechanism. However, because he clearly hadn't struggled, the flesh wasn't mangled and the break itself seemed relatively clean. She looked up at Dean, who hadn't relaxed his grip on his brother.

"Well it's definitely broken but it could have been a lot worse." He nodded at her.

"I'm going to find something to splint it with."

"Okay, thanks Kelly."

Sam slept on, oblivious to the fact of his rescue.

Earl was busy fashioning a make-shift stretcher from a couple of broom handles and a blanket he had found. Attaching the blanket to the poles had been a problem until a root around in the kitchen had produced a small hammer and a tin of nails. Dean could hear him tapping away behind him.

"Earl."

"Yeah?" Earl didn't stop what he was doing.

"Thanks."

"Uh huh"

"I mean it. I don't know how much longer Sam would have held on."

"No problem. I'd have done the same for anyone." And Dean knew it was true. Earl didn't even seem to like him but he hadn't hesitated to help a complete stranger.

Kelly finally came back with some pieces of wood, bits of torn material and string, and made a very rough splint around Sam's ankle. It wasn't pretty, but it would have to do and at least would keep the bones from jarring together temporarily.

Finally they were ready and Earl and Kelly hefted Sam's lanky frame onto the surprisingly sturdy stretcher. They wrapped a blanket around him and Dean put his jacket back on again. Earl took hold of the two front pole ends and Dean went to pick up the ones at the other end, but Kelly wouldn't let him.

"Dean, you can hardly walk – there's no way you can do this. Earl and I can manage - you just grab the crutches and we'll get back faster."

Dean wasn't happy about it but he had come to realise that arguing with either of these two was pointless. It had also started to snow, so getting Sam back to the house as soon as possible was a priority. He watched Sam closely for any sign of waking. He had to be there when Sam opened his eyes so he'd know he was with friends. But he needn't have worried. Sam stayed unconscious throughout the journey, which took a little over an hour this time. He offered to take over from Kelly a couple of times but she refused and he had to give her credit, she showed no signs of flagging, even though Sam was no light weight.

When they got back to the house, Dean was reminded again of Earl's immense strength when he picked Sam up and carried him up the stairs. He was put in the same bed that Dean had woken up in and Dean couldn't suppress a slight smirk at what he imagined Sam's reaction would be to all the pink girliness when he woke up. Kelly didn't undress Sam apart from taking off his shoes. She placed a couple of hot water bottles in the bed and piled extra blankets on top of him. She already knew they were in for a heavy snow storm and she was worried about how to get Sam the medical attention he needed if they were snowed in. Living on a remote farm, she had learned a lot of first aid over the years, and could handle a variety of situations, but a busted up ankle was beyond her rudimentary skills.

Turning to Dean, who was sitting in the chair by the bed, she immediately noticed his pallor.

"Dean, it's time I checked your dressing – it probably needs changing by now. Come on downstairs and let's leave Sam to sleep for a while."

"Kelly, I need to be here when he wakes up."

"No, you need to have your dressing changed so you don't get an infection – you wouldn't be much good to Sam then, would you? He looks like he'll be out for a while. Come and get the dressing changed and then you can come back and sit with him."

Very reluctantly, Dean stood up and the grimace on his face gave away how much pain he was in. He didn't think it had been this bad earlier this morning. He limped slowly to the stairs, feeling quite weak all of a sudden. Possibly adrenaline had kept him going up to this point. He grabbed onto the banister and started down the stairs. But about half way down dizziness and sheer fatigue meant he had to stop and sit down, leaning sideways and resting his head against a baluster.

"Great, just fucking great!" he muttered – angry with himself for his feebleness, and then Earl appeared at the bottom step. He took one look at Dean and came up to him.

"Need a hand?"

"Uh, yeah. Thanks." Dean put an arm around Earl's enormous shoulders and felt him take his entire weight, so that he more or less floated down the remaining steps. Earl helped him over to the sofa, which was in front of an enormous log fire and he lay down gratefully. He stared into the flames briefly but soon enough, the warmth, the relief that Sam was alive, and the fact that he was completely exhausted, had him curled up and asleep.

Kelly arrived with fresh bandages and tape and found him sleeping peacefully. She slipped his shirt up enough to get at the bandage on his back. Carefully peeling the tape off at one end, she pulled the bandaging back and sure enough, the wound had opened up again. It was a tiny wound, less than half an inch wide, but quite deep, and there was fresh blood seeping from it. However, it was nowhere near as severe as it had been yesterday. She pulled off the rest of the tape and cleaned up the wound. It didn't look like there was any infection there so she was quite happy that it was healing okay. After putting on a fresh dressing, she found herself looking at Dean's torso. He was quite toned but not bulging with muscles and his skin was smooth apart from a couple of scars – she didn't like to think what had caused those. This whole business with demons still seemed beyond ridiculous, but she had seen the creature this morning with her own eyes - _and _what it had done to Dean's brother. It wasn't a happy thought that things like that were out there. The last 24 hours or so had probably been the strangest of her life. She pulled Dean's shirt back down and then gently tucked a blanket around him.

Time to check on Sam. She climbed the stairs a little wearily. It had been a long day and it wasn't quite noon yet. As predicted, Sam was still completely out of it, but his colour was better and she was confident any danger of hypothermia was over. She thought about trying to get him out of his damp clothes but decided not to risk waking him. The longer he slept the better, so she sat in the chair next to the bed, feeling a certain sense of déjà vu from the previous day. She picked up the book she had been reading then and opened it at the leather bookmark. It was a pretty cheesy souvenir she'd got at Niagara Falls on a rare trip away from the farm with Jim. He'd laughed at her choice and said she could have something better, but she had liked it and had used it ever since. She ran her fingers over the badly printed image of a waterfall picked out in fading, gold coloured ink, and smiled. Such a small, simple thing, but what wonderful, fond memories it held.

She started to read but every time she got to the end of the sentence she completely forgot what she'd read and had to start again. When Earl passed by a little later, he was just in time to catch the book before it fell from her hand. She had nodded off in the chair and Earl wasn't surprised, given how little sleep she had had the night before. He laid a blanket over her and left.

Earl was the only one awake in the house now and he didn't feel at all sleepy. The strange creature he had seen and killed was on his mind. It wasn't guilt. He'd shot and killed both people and animals before. His concern was that if one of these things could find their way to the farm, what was to stop others doing the same? The thought was deeply unsettling. He still had Dean's gun with the remaining iron bullets and decided he would ask Dean a few questions when he got a chance. Glancing out of the window, the complete whiteout outside proved that the forecasted snowstorm had already taken a firm hold. Clearly neither of the unexpected visitors were going anywhere soon. So, lowering himself into an armchair near the fire and next to a lightly snoring Dean, he settled down to keep watch over the sleeping household.


	6. Chapter 6

Although it was daytime, the blizzard outside had blocked out a lot of natural light so Earl turned on a couple of lamps and then banked up the fire. He would have to get more logs soon, but first a coffee. He quietly passed the sleeping Dean, who had curled into an almost foetal ball, and went to the kitchen. He didn't bother making a fresh pot; just put the one that was still half full from earlier, back on the stove top. He was hungry. He wasn't used to going without a lunch of some sort being available. Kelly was usually great at feeding him, but these two strangers had completely wrecked their routine. Yet, the pitiful state they'd found Sam in, and the fierce devotion displayed by his brother, meant he couldn't find it within himself to resent the brothers – even if his stomach rumbled rebelliously now and then.

Naturally suspicious, but also naturally protective, Earl wondered what they would do about Sam's broken ankle if the white-out went on for several days, as often happened around here.

***

Upstairs, Sam woke to searing pain in his legs and as he writhed around, he felt another, much sharper pain, in his left ankle. He needed to get the blankets off of him and started tugging at them. Then someone's cool hand was on his forehead and a woman's voice was telling him everything was okay and that he was safe. But she didn't understand. His legs were burning! As fast as he pushed the blankets away, she was pulling them over him again.

"No! Don't!"

"Sam, your leg is broken and it's in a splint -you have to stop moving around."

"No, please stop!" Sam was shouting in frustration. Why couldn't this woman understand?

Kelly had no idea what Sam was talking about but he seemed desperate to get the blankets off his legs.

"Sam, what's wrong?"

"They're burning!"

Kelly's curiosity had her pushing up the right leg of his jeans – and finally she understood. His leg was blistered, peeling and bleeding in places and the skin was an angry crimson all the way up his shin, though oddly, only at the front. Carefully checking his other leg, she saw it was the same. How had she missed this before? No wonder the poor guy was writhing around – he must be in agony. She quickly left to get a pair of scissors – there was no way she would be able to get the jeans off with Sam in his current state. She called down to Earl, as quietly as she could, to ask for help.

Between them they managed to cut Sam's jeans off up to thigh level. At least the burns didn't extend all the way up his legs. Sam hadn't stopped trying to get out of the bed and muttering about escaping.

"Earl, can you hold him still while I put some salve on his legs?"

Earl had no trouble pinning Sam's legs to the mattress.

In Sam's world, the torment went on. He was somewhere else – it felt different, but he was being held down and Jarveld was raking his ravaged legs with those merciless talons.

Sam's eyes were squeezed shut but tears came unbidden and trickled down the side of his face, the salt stinging as it worked its way into the assorted scrapes and scratches covering his face and scalp.

Kelly couldn't even imagine what this poor guy had been through and felt immensely sorry for him. She dabbed at his face very gently with a damp cloth, trying not to open up the many small wounds.

"Sam, can you hear me? You're safe now. No one is going to hurt you."

She continued to speak quietly to him and eventually he seemed to settle a little. Earl let go of him and, at Kelly's request, went to wake up Dean. He would want to be here and might be able to reach Sam better than she could. She turned back to Sam and spoke very quietly to him.

"Sam, your brother is here – he's been really worried about you."

Sam wondered what this new torture was about. Dean was dead. Everyone was dead. Why couldn't they just leave him alone?

***

As he hobbled up the stairs, Dean didn't know who he was more angry with - himself for falling asleep or Kelly for letting him.

He ignored Kelly as he entered the room – eyes fixed on his brother.

"Sam, you're awake! Man is it good to see you!" He grasped Sam's arm as he sat on the bed beside him.

Sam couldn't believe it. He _didn't_ believe it in fact. This was just a new level of torment.

"You're not my brother!" He yanked his arm away and tried to edge himself as far away from the apparition as he could, turning his head to the way and away from Dean.

Dean was horrified. He reached across, ignoring the pain in his side, and touched Sam on the shoulder.

"Come on Sammy, it's me - you know it's me!" Sam jerked away from Dean's hand.

"Get away from me. My brother is dead." His voice broke as he began sobbing.

Dean stared at Sam's heaving back.

"God Sammy, what did that bastard do to you?" He went around to the other side of the bed and grasped both of Sam's wrists. Sam had his eyes tight shut, tears flowing freely now.

"Sam look at me – it really is me! The demon lied to you – come on, you know they lie!

Earl touched Kelly's elbow to get her attention.

"Let's leave them alone for a bit – I'll make us some coffee." She didn't argue and they left quietly.

Sam pushed his face into the pillow as far as he could. He didn't want to look at this thing pretending to be Dean.

"He killed you himself and watched you die." Sam's voice was muffled by the pillow.

"No Sammy, the bastard stabbed me but he didn't kill me – look – I'm all bandaged up – come on - open your eyes."

A glimmer of hope sparked in Sam, and he tentatively opened the eye that wasn't wedged into the pillow. The thing that was pretending to be Dean was holding up its shirt and showing him a white bandage on its back. Could it really be Dean? Was it possible Jarveld had lied and his brother was alive? Almost fearfully, he reached out and pressed his fingers to the bandage.

"Aah! Sam take it easy, it's kinda sore you know!"

"Dean?" Sam said it very quietly, and then held his breath.

"It is indeed the better looking Winchester brother!" Dean grinned a mile-wide smile at Sam.

"You're back! I thought I'd lost you there for a while Sammy!" He started to ruffle a hand through Sam's hair but stopped immediately when Sam flinched.

"Sorry man. How did you get all those cuts on your head anyway?" He paused.

"Actually, you don't have to tell me."

Sam was still trying to process the fact that his brother was alive. Maybe he was dreaming? Except there was nothing dream-like about the pain he was in.

"I don't know. One minute I was in the barn, looking for you - the next I was tied up somewhere with all these cuts and scratches on me. Bit my tongue too." He gazed up at Dean with such a mournful expression on his face that Dean wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.

"Aw, quit whining! Considering how it could have gone, you should count yourself lucky. Oh, and by the way, now that I know you're okay, I get to kill you for coming looking for me!" Dean was trying to frown, but it didn't work. He was just too happy to have Sam back to be properly cross with him. The yelling would have to wait until he could work up an appropriate level of anger.

"Dean, I had a vision - with you bleeding to death. What was I supposed to do – ignore it?"

"I guess not." Dean shifted uncomfortably. He wasn't sure it was the right time to be asking but he wanted to know.

"Speaking of visions Sam…"

"Yeah, what about them?" Sam looked slightly puzzled – and sleepy.

Dean searched his brother's face. He didn't seem at all concerned at being asked about his visions. Maybe…… "Sam - did you give them up?"

"Huh?" The lines on Sam's forehead deepened into the series of inverted "U"s they always made whenever he was completely concentrating or had no idea what was going on. Dean nearly laughed at the familiar expression.

"Dean, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Don't you know what that demon was?"

"No, he said his name was Jarveld…."

"It was an acqu…. Accuis… it was a type of greed demon Sam. It wanted your ability."

"Really? An acquisitive demon?"

"Yeah, one of those. I see a bitten tongue doesn't stop you talking like a total geek."

Ignoring the sarcasm, Sam was curious.

"How would it have taken my visions?"

"It couldn't just take them. You would have had to give them up. I take it you didn't then?"

"No. He never told me that was what he wanted. Just kept telling me things about Dad and you and me. Stuff only we would know. Could it have been reading my mind do you think?"

"Maybe. Who knows, it might have taken someone's ability to read minds. They'll take anything they can get I guess. So, would you have?" Dean was intrigued to know.

"Would I have what? Given him my visions?"

"Yeah."

"Well the visions hurt like hell and they only seem to cause trouble for us…" Sam trailed off. It was an interesting question. Jarveld had been right; he could have gone back to an ordinary life without the visions… couldn't he? With his ability gone, his destiny would surely have changed? The idea was a tempting one. But then again, he would still have known about the evil out there – could he really have gone back to college and forgotten about it?

"I don't know Dean, but I guess it doesn't matter now anyway." He avoided eye contact with Dean, who was staring at him intently. Dean wasn't sure how he felt about it either. The visions didn't seem to do either of them any good and he didn't enjoy seeing Sam doubled up in pain. But somehow it seemed like it would have been wrong to give them up to a demon. So maybe it was for the best.

"Anyway, how are you feeling Sammy?"

"Oh, you know, like I've been tortured by a demon. Apart from that, I'm just fine and dandy."

"Hey, I was just asking! No need for the attitude. Carry on like that and I won't get you some kick-ass painkillers that Kelly has."

"Kelly being the woman who was in here before?"

"Yep, and the huge guy's name is Earl – he shot the demon and they both carried you back here."

"Guess I owe them some serious thanks then. So you just sat eating popcorn and watched from the sidelines then?" Sam started to grin but stopped abruptly when it opened up some cuts on his face. "Ow!"

"Serves you right you ungrateful bastard! I happen to have a stab wound here you know. I had to go out there on crutches to save your sorry ass!"

Kelly came in then carrying pills and a glass of water.

"Well it's easy to see you two are brothers!" She went straight to Sam.

"Hi Sam, I'm Kelly. It's nice to see you awake."

"Hi Kelly. I gather I owe you and Earl a pretty big thank you." He looked up at her with soft, soulful eyes and she melted on the spot.

"Oh well, you're welcome Sam. Looks like you're going to be a much better patient than your brother!" Dean shot a hurt glance across at her but she laughed and ignored him.

"Now I bet you could use a couple of these." She passed Sam two of the pills she had brought with her, along with the water. She held out the remaining pills across the bed to Dean, who took them and swallowed them dry.

"Thanks – you read my mind!" Sam's head snapped up at that.

"Not literally of course." Dean added quickly. "Chill dude! It's just a figure of speech."

"Great timing there Dean" Sam muttered. Dean smirked.

"Yeah, not the first time I've been told that!" However, he immediately wished the ground would swallow him whole as he caught Kelly's expression – she was blushing fiercely. She busied herself with Sam's pillows, studiously avoiding Dean.

"Sam, are you warm enough? I'm sure we can rig up some sort of frame around your legs and put a blanket over you that way?"

"Oh, no there's no need, I'm fine Kelly."

"Actually, you're not fine. You need a cast on that leg Sam, but I don't know when we're going to be able to get you to a hospital."

Dean was instantly concerned. "Is this going to be a real problem?"

"I hope not. The only thing I can do is tighten up that splint to keep the bones from moving as much as possible but it's only a temporary measure. If the bones start to knit back together without being properly realigned he could end up with a permanent limp."

Sam looked from Dean to Kelly as they discussed his leg across the bed.

"I'm right here people – could you quit talking about me like I'm not even in the room please?"

"Sorry Sam. Are you up for re-doing that splint once the painkillers kick in – they might just take the edge off?"

Sam was far from thrilled with the notion. "I guess so – it's gonna hurt huh?"

"I'm afraid so. I'll have to get Earl to hold you down and you might want to bite down on something. With any luck you'll pass out."

"Terrific! I'm really looking forward to it now."

"Sorry Sam, it doesn't look like there's much choice kiddo."

"Guess not – better just get on with it." Sam gave his brother a half-hearted smile.


	7. Chapter 7

"Kelly what do you need me to do?" Dean wasn't looking forward to this either – Sam had been through enough already - but it had to be done.

"We need to take off this stuff and I'll need to put some salve on his burnt skin and then we'll wrap some clean gauze around the ankle and some sterile dressing around that. Then I'll put the splints back in place and get you to tape around them as tightly as possible. It's far from ideal, but it's the best I can come up with 'til we can get him to hospital."

Kelly went to get more tape and came back with Earl in tow. Seeing Sam's worried expression, she wished she could reassure him, but there was no way out of it - this was going to hurt a lot.

"We'll be as quick as we can Sam. What can we give you to bite down on?" She looked around the room but Dean quickly unbuckled his thick leather belt and handed it to his brother. It was a prized possession and Sam understood it was a gesture of sympathy for what was to come.

"Thanks."

"No problem." Dean briefly rested his hand on Sam's shoulder.

Kelly carefully cut through the twine and discarded it. The splints and wadding came away easily and then she smeared salve as gently as could over the burnt, blistered area. Sam hissed and clutched at the sheets but tried not to move his leg.

"Okay, guys are you ready?" All three nodded. Sam folded over the belt and put it between his teeth, grimacing at the musty taste of the well worn leather. Earl placed one enormous hand on Sam's right shoulder and the other on his left thigh, just above the knee, though he applied no pressure for the moment. Dean was poised with the tape. Kelly felt very gently around the break. It felt like the ends were aligned pretty well already.

"Now!"

"Nggghhhhh." Sam's torso reared up off the bed but Earl held him firmly and his left leg hardly moved at all. Sam bit down on the leather belt. Kelly swiftly wrapped the gauze around his ankle followed by the dressing which she wound around several times. Then she positioned the splints and held them in place while Dean started taping around them as tightly and as fast as he could. Sam's head was thrown back - the muscles and veins standing out on his neck, his face red and contorted. The fingers of his free hand dug into Earl's forearm.

It was done. Dean, Kelly and Earl released their various holds on Sam and looked at him. He was bathed in sweat. The belt fell away from his mouth, leaving a thin trail of saliva across his chin. It uncurled and snaked to the floor, unnoticed. Sam's eyes were shut.

"He passed out like you said Kelly."

"No, he didn't Dean." Kelly knew Sam was semi-conscious – she'd had more than enough experience. She took Sam's hand and squeezed it. Leaning down she spoke quietly to him

"It's alright Sam, take your time." She felt the slightest pressure back and knew she was right. She looked over at Dean.

"He'sokay." She and Earl left, Earl rubbing at the red marks left on his arm by Sam's fingers.

Dean went to the other side of the bed and sat in the chair. For a long while he sat looking at his brother - battered but still there - still alive. He ran a hand across his face and through his hair and let out a long-held breath. He had seriously messed up on this one and nearly got Sam killed in the process.

He was still mentally torturing himself when Sam moved his head. His eyes were still closed and his arm flopped down onto the mattress.

"Sammy?"

The familiar voice grounded Sam. He had been floating around half in and half out of consciousness, where there was no pain. But, as he regained full consciousness, it crashed in on him again and he opened his eyes to see Dean through an agony-filled haze.

"Dean."

"Yeah Sammy?"

"Can we _please_ not do that again?"

"Sure thing kiddo. Do you need anything?"

"I'm cold."

Dean grabbed a blanket and was about to throw it over Sam when Sam stopped him.

"Not on my legs!"

"Oh, yeah, right.." Folding it in half, Dean laid the blanket over Sam so it covered him from his shoulders down to his knees, leaving his lower legs exposed, one slathered in thick salve, the other swathed in bandages and tape.

"Dude, you're a mess."

"That's funny 'cos I feel just great." Sam's eyelids were drooping and he started to yawn but immediately stifled it. It was every bit as painful as smiling had been earlier. He was dead tired though and it was no time before he drifted asleep.

Dean decided to leave him to sleep in peace and made his way downstairs. The painkillers had worked their magic and he managed the stairs quite easily this time. He found Kelly sitting on the sofa. She looked like she had been crying. He sat down beside her.

"I'm sorry you got caught up in this mess Kelly. We'll be moving on as soon as we can and you can get back to normal."

She turned green-brown eyes to him.

"Normal? How can we go back to normal after this Dean? How do you sleep at night knowing what's out there?"

He shrugged. "I guess I grew up with it. It's just the way things have always been. But listen; there's no reason for you to worry about any other demons coming here. This one probably just discovered the abandoned house and decided it would be a good place to trap Sam. I guess it lured me here knowing Sam would follow me. "

"But you don't know that for certain, do you?" Earl had arrived with a mug of coffee for Kelly. As he handed it to her, he looked at Dean, waiting for his response, the frown on his face even deeper than usual.

"Well no, not for definite. But Sam and I have been in this business for a long time and we know pretty much how things work." Dean hoped he sounded more convincing than he felt.

Earl persevered. "But these things are after your brother, so while he's here, won't they keep coming?"

Dean thought it was a fair question and he didn't really have an adequate answer.

"Well not all demons are after Sam. This one just had a particular interest in his ability." It was kind of lame, but it was the best he could come up with.

Earl looked sceptical, but he went to get another mug of coffee for Dean.

"Dean, what exactly is Sam's ability?" Kelly asked.

"He has visions."

"Of what?"

"Well it sort of varies, but basically he sees visions of people in trouble."

"What sort of trouble?" Kelly's gaze didn't waver.

Dean was increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation, but Kelly obviously wasn't going to let it go until he told her everything.

Earl came back with the coffee and, having handed it to Dean, sat in the side chair, putting his own coffee down on the side table next to him. Now they were both staring intently at him. Shifting slightly so that he was avoiding both of them, he focussed instead on the fire.

"He sees people dying. People being killed."

"Oh my God! That's horrible! How does he cope?"

"It's not great. We cope by trying to find the people and stopping them from dying. We don't always get there in time though. Which pretty much sucks." It wasn't the total truth, but Dean didn't feel like going into the whole question of Sam's possible destiny.

Dean felt soft fingers close around his own calloused hand, where it lay on his thigh. If Earl noticed he didn't say anything. The man was discreet; you had to hand it to him. He got up and mumbled something about going to get more wood before it got completely dark.

Dean turned to look at Kelly. Her face was soft and full of compassion and he thought she looked beautiful in the firelight.

"That's what you and Sam do Dean? Travel all over trying to save people?"

"And hunting things, yeah, that's pretty much it."

"But don't you have anywhere to call home? Isn't it lonely, on the road all the time?"

Dean could hardly remember what having a home felt like.

"Uh, well you know, it's not so bad - we manage okay."

Kelly held his hand between both of hers now. Dean hadn't had anyone do that for as long as he could remember. He had no idea how to react.

"I don't know how you can stand it."

"What do you mean? _stand what_?"

"Not having a home of your own."

Dean's heart was inexplicably jumping around in his chest. Kelly was having a strange effect on him. _Come on Dean – snap out of it!_

"Ah, well I guess you just get used to it."

Earl came in with a huge pile of logs in his arms and dropped them into the large basket at the side of the fireplace. Snow was melting into glistening droplets on his hat and all over his coat.

"That should do us for the rest of today and tonight. It's pretty wild out there. Can't see more than a foot or two in front of your face." He shuffled out of the room, taking off his coat and hat as he went.

"I think that's the longest sentence he has come out with since I got here!"

Kelly laughed and Dean relaxed a little as she let go of his hand.

"Yeah, Earl is a man of few words. Well unless you give him a couple of whiskeys – then you can't shut him up!"

Dean was thinking he could use a whiskey right about now, despite the early hour. It was only just after 4pm but already dark outside.

"That's not a bad idea, do you have any?"

"Whiskey? Well yes, but you shouldn't drink on top of those painkillers."

"Aw, come on! What's the worst that could happen – I'll doze off? I bet you and Earl could use a drink too after the last couple of days."

Kelly got up and went to get the bottle and three tumblers.

"I don't think this is such a good idea Dean but if you insist, don't blame me for the consequences." She poured out three measures and handed one to Earl, who had changed into slippers and come back into the room. He sat back down in the side chair and took an appreciative sip.

"Thanks Kelly – this was a good idea."

"Don't thank me – Dean suggested it."

Earl held up his glass to Dean. "Cheers". Dean returned the gesture and took a fairly decent slug from the glass. As it burned its way down his throat and chest, he settled back on the sofa, pleased that Earl seemed to be thawing out towards him.

Kelly took a tiny sip. She wasn't that keen on whiskey really. Dean, however, was knocking his back like it was going out of fashion. And actually, so was Earl. She decided to leave them to it and go take a bath.

"I'll see you later guys. By the way Dean, I'm afraid you're on the couch tonight."

"No problem Kelly, I've slept on much worse believe me!" Dean smiled broadly at her and Kelly suddenly found it hard to walk in a straight line. She hurried off to her bath – failing utterly, to rid herself of the grin on her face.

Earl reached for the whiskey and topped up both his and Dean's glasses. Dean thanked him and they were soon deep in conversation. Earl had a lot of questions.

***

Sam slept, but Jarveld's words kept rolling around in his dreams, tormenting him. _"… how proud he was of him! Guess we know which son he loved best, don't we Sam! … don't we Sam?.... don't we?"_ And the mocking laughter echoed in his skull.

***

Downstairs Dean was starting to slur his words as the mixture of drugs and a third whiskey started to take effect. He had put his feet up on the sofa after Kelly had gone and Earl was pretty sure it wouldn't be long before he was asleep. He waited a little longer and sure enough, Dean's head lolled to the side and he was out. Earl put a blanket over him and added a couple of logs to the fire. After checking all doors and windows were locked, he went up to his room to watch TV as it was far too early for bed. He paused on the way to check on Sam and was satisfied he was asleep and didn't need anything, and then carried on to his own room.

Kelly emerged warm, relaxed and pink-skinned from her bath. Putting on pyjamas and a thick, warm dressing gown, she headed downstairs. There she found Dean sleeping and let out a soft chuckle. She had warned him about the whiskey!

Realising no one had eaten since breakfast; she made sandwiches and took a plate up to Earl, who was watching Ice Hockey. It wasn't unusual for him to be in his bedroom – he liked time to himself but he was very happy to see the plate piled high.

"Thanks Kelly. You okay? Need me to do anything?"

"No, you're okay. By the way, thanks for your help today."

Earl was already tucking into a sandwich. But stopped then and looked up at her glowing face.

"He'll hurt you Kelly."

"What? Who?" Kelly flushed crimson.

"Dean."

* * *

A/N Just in case anyone is wondering, there is no romance in this story.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N 1 As chapters 8 and 9 were a little shorter than previous chapters, I have amalgamated them, so the story now has 10 chapters in total.

A/N 2 Thanks to everyone who has story alerted! You have broken my previous record! Not that I am feeling any pressure or anything...

* * *

"I'm an idiot."

No. You're not."

"You don't like him."

He looked at her and replied with his usual candour.

"He's trouble."

"Oh." Kelly was crestfallen. "There's nothing good about him?"

"I didn't say that. I can see he's a decent guy but look at the way he lives Kelly. He won't settle down – he can't."

Kelly was about to launch into a spirited reply about how she wasn't looking to marry the guy, but she stopped herself. Because of course, her plain-speaking Cousin was right. Kelly knew that, but it didn't stop her heart pounding every time she looked at Dean.

"Well thanks for the reality check Earl. I'll leave you to it."

Thoroughly deflated, she went back downstairs and sat with a plate of sandwiches in the chair next to Dean, stealing glances at him every so often. He looked nothing like Jim of course. He'd been slightly shorter but stockier, and his dark, nearly black hair had been longer than Dean's and slightly wavy.

Dean was lying on his front now with one arm dangling off the edge of the sofa and the blanket twisted around his legs. Kelly wondered whether she should try to straighten it out but decided against it. It wasn't cold there in front of the fire, not to mention he was fully dressed. In fact he still had his boots on. They would have to go before they did any more damage to the sofa. She moved to the far end of the sofa and sat on the edge next to his feet. She got the first boot off quite easily but struggled with the lace on the second one - it was all knotted up. She tugged at it and must have disturbed Dean, as he suddenly kicked out his foot, catching her in the thigh with the cleated boot. It hurt a lot and she let out a small yelp of pain before she could stop herself. That was enough to wake Dean up – he was a light sleeper, even with a cocktail of pills and whiskey inside him. He was groggy though. After rubbing his eyes with his fists he saw Kelly at the end of the sofa clutching her thigh. It took him a moment to realise what had happened.

"God Kelly, are you alright?"

"It's okay, it was an accident." Kelly's eyes were welling up a little as she rubbed the side of her thigh. She was going to have a hell of a bruise there. Dean managed to get himself upright, though it had been tricky, what with the wound and the blanket twisted around his legs.

"I can't believe I kicked you!" Dean was mortified with embarrassment. Kelly tried to laugh it off, quickly wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She attempted a smile but seeing Dean's worried face just set her off again. The next thing she knew, his arms were around her and she was being enveloped in a firm hug.

"I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

Kelly's head was tucked in under Dean's chin, resting against his neck and chest. Heat was radiating off him and he smelt of sweat and traces of soap and aftershave and, well, unique _Deanness _she supposed. Whatever, she liked it. She could feel his heart thumping in his chest and her own was hammering away too. _Well_, she thought, _Earl warned me he would hurt me – don't think this is quite what he meant_.

Because she was silent, Dean pulled his head back to look at her.

"Kelly, are you okay? I haven't broken anything have I?"

"No, but for an injured guy, you sure have a hell of a kick Dean!"

She was rewarded with a hug so tight; she thought her ribs might crack.

"Ah, Dean, maybe not quite so tight…"

"God! Sorry!" Dean released her abruptly and she really didn't know whether to be happy or sad about it.

Looking at him, she could tell he was angry with himself.

"Come on, let's get this boot off – don't kick me this time okay?"

"It's not funny Kelly. Are you sure you're alright?"

"Dean, I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

"Ya know, I don't generally go around kicking women… well, come to think of it, they usually kick my ass…" He trailed off, looking truly miserable.

Kelly got the boot off and dropped it next to the other one on the floor.

"Dean. Seriously, I'm fine! Look – see? No problem!" She got up from the sofa and retrieved the plate of sandwiches, taking them over to Dean. In fact her thigh was throbbing horribly, but she didn't want Dean to feel even worse than he already did.

"Here, have a sandwich – you must be starving."

Dean's eyes lit up at the sight of food. He had forgotten how hungry he was. He tucked in straight away and Kelly was pleased it seemed to have taken his mind off kicking her. He certainly had a hearty appetite. He was just finishing his second one, when they heard noise from upstairs. Earl called down that he would see to Sam.

"I should go up." Dean made to heave himself up from the sofa but Kelly suggested they wait and see if Earl called down for him. It was no good though; Dean was agitated and wanted to go up to his brother. Kelly had an idea.

"Would you like me to put up a camp bed so you can stay with him?"

Dean had the uncomfortable feeling she was reading his mind again. That was exactly what he would like. He raised grateful eyes to her.

"I hate to be putting you to all this trouble, but yeah, that would be great."

She wasted no time in grabbing the folding camp bed from under the stairs and taking it up to Sam's room. Earl was just on his way out.

"He was having a nightmare I think. Wasn't sure if I should wake him or not, but he seems to have settled again."

"You did the right thing. Any chance you could put this up while I get some bedding?"

"Sure." He took the bed from her and switched on the lamp, hoping it wouldn't wake Sam up. Sam stirred but didn't wake. His eyes were moving rapidly under his eyelids though and he was clearly still dreaming.

Dean arrived after a fairly slow ascent up the stairs. He leaned against the door frame, feeling a little light-headed. Kelly brushed past him with sheets and blankets and the room was suddenly rather crowded. Earl left them to it and returned to his own bedroom. Kelly quickly made up the bed, leaving the blanket turned down so all Dean had to do was get in.

"Do you need a hand getting undressed?"

Dean bit back the rather obvious reply that sprang to mind and came up with something more acceptable.

"Uh, no, I'll manage I think." He moved past Kelly and went to sit on the camp bed, but it was quite low down and he ended up more or less falling onto it, jarring his wound in the process. Hissing, he clutched his side. Kelly was instantly there next to him.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just need to lie down. "

"Okay, well I'll be downstairs for a while, so call down if you need anything." She left. Dean was too tired to undress, and, after switching off the lamp, just got in under the blankets as he was. He still felt bad about kicking Kelly but she had been very good about it. She was a pretty decent person all round really. He drifted off to sleep thinking about how confusing she was – attractive certainly, though not like his usual hook ups. But, even though she seemed to be around the same age as him, the way she looked after him and Sam, made him think about his mom. Definitely confusing.

***

Sometime later he was woken by Sam calling out his name. He sat up quickly, cursing the pain in his side.

"Sam, what's wrong?" He switched the lamp on and saw that Sam was actually asleep and having a nightmare. Getting up off the camp bed he shook Sam's arm, waking him. Sam opened his eyes and blinked, then put an arm across his face to block out some of the light.

"Dude, you okay?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess so."

"Nightmare?"

"Yeah."

"Was it about the demon?"

"I don't remember…" Dean knew a Sammy evasion when he heard one.

"Sam, I can totally tell you're lying. What was the dream about?"

"It was nothing. Stupid. It doesn't matter."

"Sam I swear, if you don't spill!"

Sam turned misery-filled eyes to his brother.

"Just before Dad died, while I was getting the coffee, did he tell you he was proud of you?"

Dean was instantly wary.

"Yeah, he did. How'd you know?"

Sam ignored him. "Did he tell you he loved you too?"

"I guess – where's all this going?"

"Did he say anything about me? Apart from telling you that you might have to kill me?" Tears started to well in Sam's eyes.

"Aw man, Sam…."

"Did he say it? Was he proud of me too?"

"Of course he was proud of you Sam, he was proud of us both."

"Dean, did he say it?"

"Well not in so many words but…"

Sam cut him off.

"So Jarveld was right!"

"Look! Whatever that bastard said to you, he was twisting it all around to mess with your head. You have to stop this. You'll drive yourself nuts and all for nothing! It was just bad timing that's all. Dad couldn't have known exactly when it was going to happen could he? I bet he was going to talk to you as soon as you came back with the coffee."

"Maybe." Sam wasn't convinced. Something else was puzzling him, however.

"But anyway, how did he know what Dad said? He couldn't have read my mind because I wasn't there, so how did he know Dean?"

"I don't know Sam, what does it matter?"

"Because he said he had been talking to Dad. Do you think it's possible he really was?"

"So what? He lied about pretty much everything else. He was lying about that too." There was a warning note of finality in Dean's voice, but as usual Sam chose to ignore it.

"I don't see how else he could have known what Dad said to you Dean. What if he really was talking to Dad – you know, in hell or something? Dean, don't you ever think about what might be happening to Dad?"

Which is exactly what Dean _didn't_ want to have to think about. Why couldn't Sam just drop it?

"Look Sam, he didn't talk to Dad! He probably read it from my mind in the barn – you didn't think of that, did you?" There was a harder edge to Dean's tone now and Sam knew it was time to shut up about it or they were heading for a fight. It didn't mean he wouldn't bring it up again though.

"Okay, yeah, that's possible I guess." He twisted towards the nightstand and reached for the glass of water but Dean got a hand to it first and passed the glass to him.

"Thanks." He took a long, deep drink of the water and handed it back to Dean.

"No problem. You need anything else?"

"No, I'm fine." He paused, then "Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean was getting a little exasperated. If he started up about their Dad again….

"What's the plan? How long are we staying here?"

Even though he didn't actually have a plan, Dean was relieved at the change of subject.

"Right well, there's a white-out right now and no way of knowing how long it'll last. But when it clears, I'll have to get you to a hospital to get your ankle fixed up properly. I think we're here for a couple of days at least. Why do you ask anyway? Bored already Sam?"

"No, just wondering. They seem like nice people don't they? Just one thing that worries me though."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" Dean wondered what was coming. Maybe Sam was picking up on some bad vibes or something. He hated the idea of Kelly, in particular, not being who he thought she was.

"Is the rest of the house decorated like this room? 'Cos this amount of pink isn't normal you know." Sam's face was dead pan and Dean just about doubled up laughing. Despite the pain it was causing him, he just couldn't stop.

"I was wondering when you would notice! Dude, I thought I was dead when I woke up in here! Aagh! It hurts!" He curled up on the campbed, laughing loudly and holding his ribs.

Sam had joined in now and had a similar problem with the cuts on his face, but he couldn't stop either. It was a unique moment - the Winchester boys were both laughing, fit to burst, even though it was agony for them.

"Is everything okay you guys?" Kelly was at the door looking concerned. Having heard cries of pain from downstairs she had come up to see what was wrong. It took her a moment to work out that they were, in fact, laughing their heads off.

"Oh, hi Kelly. Sorry we disturbed you. We were, uh, just sharing a joke." Dean tried to stifle another bubble of laughter that was threatening to burst out of him and desperately avoided looking at Sam, who had subsided into silent giggling judging by the heaving of his shoulders.

Kelly looked from one to the other.

"You two are strange – you know that?" It was too much. They both dissolved. As they doubled up again, Sam was trying to hold his face together with both hands and Dean was half falling off the side of the campbed.

"Oh God, the pain! I can't breathe!" He panted, still holding his side.

"I know! Me too! I'm… I'm gonna be scarred for life if I don't stop!" Sam looked at the blood on his hands from the cuts on his face that had opened up again.

"Yeah well, it's not like it's gonna affect your love life is it Sam!" Dean fell about laughing.

"Hey!" But Sam rocked with laughter too.

Kelly slipped away. She was a little puzzled as to how two people in such dire shape, living the life they did, and knowing the things they did, could find anything to laugh about.

Eventually everyone slept and the house was quiet apart from the booming snores emanating from Earl's room. Downstairs, a clock ticked away the hours and the glow from the embers of the fire grew dimmer until it disappeared completely. Outside the snow storm raged unabated, banking more and more snow up against the front of the house. No one would have noticed a pair of eyes, glowing orange in the tree line behind the barn.

Jarveld moved toward the barn. He knew he was dying, and his progress was slow. But he was determined to make these people pay for what they had done to him. The wild weather hardly affected him as he was impervious to heat or cold, though the strong wind buffeted him a little. From the barn he could see that all the lights were out in the house. Good, it would make it easier and he wasn't sure how much time he had left. From the barn, he made his way to the back door of the house. Testing it, he wasn't surprised to find it locked. Despite his injuries, he was still very strong, and a determined shove broke the lock without making too much noise. Still he tensed, listening for signs of movement in the house. Hearing nothing, he entered the kitchen then made his way through the house to the stairs. He paused and listened again. All was quiet but for the loud snoring coming from upstairs. He climbed the stairs carefully and came to the landing. Confronted with 4 doors - three closed - he chose the nearest and opened it. He instantly recognised the one who had shot him – he was big, for a human anyway. He moved quietly to the side of the bed and smoothly ran a talon across the man's throat. There was a gargling noise and blood spurted from Earl's neck. Now for the female…


	9. Chapter 9

"No!"

Dean woke immediately.

"What?" He snapped on the light. Sam was shaking and deathly pale.

"It's not dead! We have to salt the doors and windows before it gets here!"

"Whoa! Slow down! What are you talking about?"

"Dean, the demon, it's not dead - it's coming here!" Sam was pulling the blanket off and trying to move his legs to get out of the bed.

"Sam no!" Dean was up and pushing at Sam's shoulders to keep him in the bed. Sam struggled feebly against him and Dean was alarmed at how weak he was.

"Sam, you can't walk. I've got this okay, so just tell me what you saw."

"It's on its way here right now Dean - it's going to kill Earl."

"Not gonna happen." Dean headed towards the door, turning briefly to tell Sam to stay in the bed. Then he padded quietly out onto the landing and listened at the top of the stairs. Hearing nothing suspicious, he went to Earl's bedroom door and knocked. Judging by the continued snoring, Earl wasn't waking up any time soon. Dean went in and cautiously approached the bed.

"Earl, wake up!" Still getting no response, he shook Earl's arm. Without warning giant hands wrapped around his neck, crushing his windpipe. Desperately trying to breathe, he grabbed at Earl's huge paws and pulled and tugged but they were like iron around his throat. Earl finally woke up sufficiently to realise it was Dean he was throttling and released his grip. Dean fell against the bed and then to the floor, dragging in air and clutching his side. Earl got out of bed and put the light on. Then he heaved Dean up and onto the edge of the bed.

"Sorry about that, but you really shouldn't creep up on a guy in his room."

"I'm right with you on that Earl, but we've got a problem." Dean's throat was raw and his voice came out in a wheezing rasp.

"What's wrong?" Earl pulled on jeans as he spoke.

"The demon isn't dead and it's on its way here."

"How d'you know?"

"Sam had a vision."

"Couldn't it have been a dream?"

"Believe me, we know the difference. C'mon, we don't have much time." Dean got up off the bed, his side was hurting and he was pretty sure it had opened up again but there was nothing to be done about it now.

"What are we doing?" Earl had shoes and a thick jersey shirt on now.

"We need to line all the doors and windows with salt so it can't get in."

"Salt? What good will salt do?" Earl wasn't entirely sure he was awake.

"Like I said, it'll stop the demon getting inside the house. Where's the gun?"

"In the kitchen. I'll get it." He made to leave but Dean grabbed his arm.

"Wait! It could be in the house already. We have to be careful."

"Okay. I'd better wake Kelly."

"Make it fast and get her to stay with Sam and stop him from trying to get up."

"Sure."

It wasn't long before Kelly was padding along the landing and heading into Sam's room, with a quick glance at Dean as she passed.

Earl started towards the stairs.

"I'll take point."

"No I…"

"Dean, I'm taking point. You're injured."

Dean, still nursing a bruised windpipe, took the unusual step of agreeing. He nodded.

They headed down the stairs - Earl in front - listening for any unusual sounds as they cautiously descended. Seeing nothing untoward, they made their way to the kitchen. Earl went straight to a cupboard and took down a tin box. Taking the lid off, he extracted the gun.

"And salt?"

"Won't grit do?"

"Earl,I know it's freezing but we're not repelling ice here - it's a demon. We need salt."

Earl didn't argue. Instead he got a large bag of salt out of another cupboard and raised a quizzical eyebrow. Dean gestured towards the back door.

"Start there."

Earl poured the salt along the bottom of the door then moved onto the kitchen window. Dean kept watch and listened keenly for the sound of breaking glass. They moved silently to the lounge and Earl salted both the windows, glancing outside as he did so. There was nothing to see through the swirling snow, however.

They were heading towards the study when they heard a sound - something falling to the floor. They backed away from the study door, until they were at the far end of the hallway, next to the staircase. Since Dean had the gun, he motioned for Earl to get behind him. The handle on the door started to turn, making the slightest creaking noise, and then the door opened inwards. After what seemed an eternity, they saw orange glowing eyes and the tall outline of the demon appear. Dean raised the gun and started to squeeze the trigger. Before he could let off a round, Jarveld had spotted him and ducked back into the study and back out through the window. Earl rushed forward, ignoring Dean's warning to stay back. Going to the broken window he started to salt along the edge. Jarveld's arm shot through the window and lashed at his face with his talons. Earl staggered back, dropping the salt. Dean couldn't get a clear shot at Jarveld, who disappeared into the snowstorm. He finished off the line of salt and turned to Earl. Blood was pouring from 4 diagonal slashes across his face. There was blood in his eyes and he couldn't see properly but Dean had no time for niceties, Earl would survive.

"How many more windows on the ground floor Earl?"

"There's the front door, a window to the side of it, and a small window at the end of the hallway."

"Okay, I'll go and salt them. Can you make it upstairs?"

Earl nodded and followed Dean out of the study; Dean headed to the small window and quickly salted it. Earl headed up the stairs and Dean went to the front door, noticing that the snow had banked up half way up the window. He was pretty sure Jarveld would have no trouble ploughing through it to get through the door though. Bending stiffly, he salted the base of the door. Just the window to the side left to do now. But as he straightened up, an arm smashed through the window and hooked around the back of his neck, shoving his face into the door. Talons sank into the side of his neck instantly drawing blood. Acting on instinct Dean brought the gun up and shot straight through Jareld's forearm, taking some satisfaction from the howling screech he heard as the arm released him and he dropped to the floor. He felt a little groggy from the knock to his head and wasn't sure what hurt most, his head, his neck, or the newly re-opened wound at his side.

"Dean!" That snapped him back into focus. It was Sam - who had clearly not stayed put - calling from the top of the stairs.

"Dammit Sam! I told you to stay in bed!" He shouted up at him. Moments later Kelly was beside him and had picked up the gun.

Dean got back to his feet somewhat wearily and finished salting the window, while Kelly kept watch. Snow was blowing in through the broken pane.

"We'll need to board that up, but it'll have to wait til we've salted upstairs."

He wasn't sure if Jarveld would be able to climb up, but it wasn't worth taking the risk. He started slowly climbing the stairs but stopped and half turned when he noticed Kelly wasn't following.

"Aren't you coming up?"

"Dean, it's still out there! What if it tries to come in again?"

"It can't get past the salt."

"Really? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure Kelly, that's why we need to do the same to the windows upstairs."

She immediately followed him up the stairs. Sam was waiting at the top. He had somehow managed to crawl out of the bed and drag himself along the floor, and now sat, with his legs stretched out in front of him, clinging to the stair post. He was sweating and in horrible pain but he hadn't been able to just lie in the bed knowing Jarveld was down there. He smiled wanly at Dean as he came up the stairs.

"Dude, are you ever going to just do what I tell you?"

"Probably not." Sam started to tilt sideways but Dean caught him before his head hit the floor. He gently laid him down. He would have to stay there till the window salting was done.

Kelly went to see to Earl while Dean salted all the upstairs windows. Looking out through Kelly's bedroom window, directly above the front door, he couldn't see any sign of Jarveld. At least he couldn't get in now though. With three iron bullets in him he surely couldn't last much longer in any case? It was disturbing Dean that the two iron rounds Earl had already pumped into the creature hadn't killed it.

In Earl's room he found Earl sitting on his bed while Kelly cleaned out the deep lacerations on his face. Both the water in the bowl and the cloth were stained red. Earl didn't flinch as Kelly applied antiseptic and then taped gauze pads over the wounds as best she could. She looked up as Dean entered.

"How are you guys doing?"

"Holding up I guess. What about Sam?"

Earl got up, went out onto the landing, followed by Kelly and Dean. He bent down and carefully picked Sam up and carried him to his bed in the spare room. After that he went back to his own room, shutting the door behind him.

"Is he like, made of _stone_ or something?"

"No, he's not. He's been through a lot Dean. He's tough and loyal and I don't know how I would have survived without him." Kelly was on the verge of tears.

"You need to get some sleep Kelly."

"I'm not sure I'll ever sleep again after all this."

"Look, go and lie down. I'll check on Sam and then bring you a drink."

Dean watched her retreating back and then went to see how his annoying and disobedient brother was doing. Sam was asleep, a blanket carefully placed over him, courtesy of Earl.

He made his way downstairs and found the bottle of whiskey and a clean glass. Taking a swift slug from the bottle, he poured some whiskey in the glass and took it up to Kelly's room. The door was slightly ajar and when he entered, the light was off but he could just make out Kelly huddled under a duvet. Clearly not asleep.

"Here, drink this – it might help."

He sat on the side of her bed as she took the glass from and tried a small sip.

"It's no good, I can't drink it." She passed the mostly full glass back to him and their fingers brushed against each other.

"Are you going to be alright?"

"I guess so."

"Well I uh, better go."

"You don't have to."

"Yeah, I do."

He made his way slowly back to Sam's room and lay down, exhausted and in pain, on the camp bed.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N 1 Okay, firstly apologies for this late arrival. No excuses. It's late. But it's finished!

A/N 2 Secondly, thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, alerted, and even favourited. I appreciate it very much!

* * *

After an age spent listening for any untoward sounds and with images of the demon alternating with Earl's slashed face, flickering in and out of her mind, Kelly had finally succumbed to sleep. Waking now, and getting out of bed, she winced as she put weight on the leg Dean had kicked the previous day. Overnight, a very large bruise had blossomed on her thigh, with the cleats from his boot clearly defined in black and purple.

Remembering the previous evening, she felt embarrassed at suggesting to Dean that he could stay with her. Even though she hadn't intended for anything to happen – a reassuring presence was really all she had wanted - she still felt a little hurt at his refusal. She looked out of the window to a white covered world. But there was a line breaking up the pristine white blanket – a trough in the snow – all the way from the house, past the barn and into the tree line. Deep into the woods and well off the access road, Kelly could see tendrils of smoke curling up through the tops of the leafless trees.

She got dressed and after checking on a very peaceful-looking Sam, she went downstairs. The coffee pot was half empty and two mugs were on the kitchen counter. Looking around, she also spotted that the broken window next to the front door had been boarded up. Earl and Dean weren't letting their various injuries hold them back from their tasks it seemed.

***

Sam woke to the tantalising smell of fried bacon.

"Morning Sam. Thought you'd like some breakfast." Kelly brought a tray in with fold out legs and placed it over his lap on the bed and helped him sit further up. Sam surveyed the bacon, eggs, toast and coffee

"Thanks Kelly – not just for this. You know - for everything."

"It's okay. We get whiteouts here a lot in winter. Never know who's going to need your help. Oh, and by the way, it stopped snowing."

Sam noted the complete absence of any reference to a demon or anything supernatural, but didn't comment on it. He couldn't really blame her for wanting it all to just go away.

"Tuck in before it gets cold."

He didn't need asking twice and set to work.

""I'll take a look at your burns when you're done – how're they feeling anyway?"

"Oh, you know - not too bad."

"Hm, personally I'd have thought they'd be pretty painful – specially on the broken leg." She arched both eyebrows at him and he gave her a sheepish grin.

"They're killing me."

"Eat up. I'll be back."

***

Earl and Dean had dragged Jareld's finally dead body a long way into the woods. Neither of them wanted Kelly to ever come across the remains. Neither of them wanted Kelly to be hurt. They paused to watch the demon burn. The flames lit up their faces – Earl's was a study in concentrated stillness, slashed through with long, angry red welts. Dean's face appeared impassive at first glance, but the muscles under the surface were in constant motion.

"This done?"

"Yeah."

"Snow stopped." Earl glanced skywards, frowning at the still snow-laden cloud above them. More was on the way.

"Don't worry, we're leaving."

"Right."

They started back to the farmhouse, neither of them speaking, but when Dean stumbled Earl was there to hold him up and supported him all the way back, only letting go as they reached the barn. Dean made it into the house, feeling increasingly light-headed, and more or less fell onto a chair. The morning's exertion had taken its toll and he had virtually run out of steam. Earl rinsed the mugs they had used earlier and refilled them – placing one in front of Dean before taking a seat in his usual chair.

Kelly had been dreading seeing Dean, but one look at his dejected frame and pale face and everything else was forgotten.

"Dean, you don't look so great."

"I'm fine, just need some coffee." He picked up the steaming mug but couldn't hide the trembling in his hand. Using both hands, he managed to get the mug to his lips without spilling the contents.

"I think you need to lie down. And I need to clean those wounds on your neck."

"I can do it."

"I know that Dean, but right now, you don't need to."

Dean didn't have the energy to argue and simply nodded.

"How's Sam?"

"He had a good night, and he's probably finished his breakfast by now. I said I'd look at his legs."

Any other time, Dean would have come back with a snappy and inappropriate comment, but not this time.

"Here, eat something and when I get back I'll bandage your neck." Kelly put a plate of food in front of him and left. Earl was already half way through his own breakfast.

Dean looked at the food like it was something that needed to be salted and burned. Certainly he didn't want to eat it. That would require an effort he just wasn't capable of right now. Eyeing the sofa in front of a newly started fire, he moved over to it and lay down. Earl pulled a blanket over him, but he was already asleep and didn't even notice.

When Dean next woke up his neck felt stiff and putting a hand to it, he discovered a bandage had been secured there. He was warm and surprisingly comfortable and not really inclined to change that, but he had work to do so swung his legs out from under the blanket and pulled himself upright. Apart from some brief dizziness, he felt better than he had earlier. It was still daylight, but there didn't seem to be anyone around and other than the odd crackle and hiss from the fire, it was very quiet.

He slipped on his jacket, and, finding them stuffed into the pockets, also put on Jim's gloves. Funny how they fit so well. He opened the front door and breathed deeply. The icy air was fresh and bracing and just what he needed. It was way too warm inside… and comfortable. He picked up a snow shovel left leaning against the wall on the porch and shovelled snow off the front steps. Then he set to work shovelling a path towards the Impala.

***

Earl had gone to his room after Kelly had looked at the wounds on his face. They were clean and though they looked awful, there didn't seem to be anything to worry about. Kelly went to Sam's room. She was starting to feel like a nurse on rounds.

"Hey Kelly."

"Hi Sam – breakfast okay?" She smiled, seeing the clean plate.

"Yeah, it was great. Don't often get home cooking."

"So I gather."

Sam stilled.

"Dean told you about us?"

"Yeah."

"About how we're orphans?" Sam was pretty sure his heart was about to stop.

"And all the other stuff."

"Where is he?" Sam's voice came out a little more tightly pitched than he would have wanted.

A slight frown passed over Kelly's face.

"Oh, he's outside."

"Doing what?

"He's digging your car out of the snow. He wants to get you to the hospital as soon as possible Sam."

"Huh! Never known Dean to be so keen to get to a hospital!"

Kelly went to the window. She could see Dean from there, shovelling at the snow around the Impala.

"Yeah, he's keen alright."

"How's Earl doing?"

"Earl is just fine too. Sam are you alright?"

"Yeah, uh, Kelly could you get Dean to come up please?"

Kelly looked puzzled.

"Sure."

Kelly trudged through the path Dean had cut through the snow drift to the car.

He looked up. Sweat pouring off him despite the icy temperature.

She clocked Jim's gloves immediately and he knew it.

"Sam asked for you."

"Could you tell him I'm a little busy digging us out of here?"

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"Tell him yourself." He said to her retreating back.

"Godammit!" Dean threw the shovel down and marched back to the house.

"Yo Sam! What's up?"

"More to the point, what's up with you and Kelly?"

"What? Aw! No. Not having this conversation. " He was halfway out of the room.

"Dean! "

"What?" Dean shouted. His face was all anger, and his tone a definite signal to Sam to leave it alone.

"You care about her don't you?"

"What? No! Shut up! Sam we are getting out of here as soon as I dig a path for the car. Don't be getting all up close and personal with these people, okay?"

"Why not?"

"Because…."

Earl appeared at the door.

"I'll give you a hand."

Hours passed. Earl and Dean didn't need to speak as they methodically shovelled at the snow. Both knew it was best for the Winchesters to leave.

Kelly emerged from her room and checked on Sam, who had fallen asleep. She looked out of the window to see what progress was being made. Grimly, she realised it wouldn't be much longer. They had cleared a path to the front door and were well on the way to clearing another to where the trees overhung the access track. That was mostly clear of snow and the main road would have been cleared by snow ploughs by now. There was nothing to keep Dean from leaving. A lump formed in her throat that she just couldn't seem to shift.

***

Dean drove the Impala right up to the front door of the house and Earl carried Sam down. He and Dean manhandled Sam into the back seat, where he could just about keep his legs straight. He had insisted on putting jeans on. As a result his legs were on fire, and his ankle was throbbing, but he was as comfortable as they could make him, with a cushion at his back and a blanket covering his midsection. Dean shook Earl's hand.

"Thanks for everything Earl. I'm really sorry you guys got involved in all this."

"Not a problem. See you around Dean." But of course they both knew that wasn't going to happen. Dean cast a quick glance up at Kelly's bedroom window. She hadn't come out to say goodbye and in a way he was relieved. It was easier this way.

He drove off, watching Earl standing staring after him in the rear view mirror.

It was several days later that Kelly found Dean's belt under the bed. Sam's teeth marks were still clearly visible on it. She was pretty sure Dean wouldn't be back to collect it.


End file.
